


(First One to) Compromise

by euhemeria



Series: And, In Sign of Ancient Love, Their Plighted Hands They Join [41]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Communication, Compromise, Gen, Teamwork
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-15 06:32:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14785307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/euhemeria/pseuds/euhemeria
Summary: This is not what Brigitte wanted, isguiltand not a realistic assessment of what it was that went wrong, and a part of her feels badly, about hurting him so, but the greater part isangry, because if they let themselves be distracted, now, by his guilt, by his need to be a hero, then they will not accomplish anything, will not improve, will not be prepared to prevent this next time.Or,Reinhardt and Brigitte are still learning how to work as a team, and a close call forces them both to reconsider their actions.





	(First One to) Compromise

**Author's Note:**

> this is for [jo](http://thatoneweirdooverthere.tumblr.com), who wanted a piece about reinhardt and brigitte's partnership having a few growing pains, and whose thoughts about reinhardt's characterization have informed mine since i first encountered their art in summer 2016.

Reinhardt had warned her, when she visited for her intake exam, that Angela’s medbay would feel far less welcoming should she find herself there recovering from an injury their head doctor deemed to be the result of recklessness; Brigitte had laughed it off, then, but she is beginning to understand, now, what he meant.  The both of them having been injured in what was, in retrospect, an entirely preventable series of events, she and Reinhardt are currently convalescing under Angela’s care, her very boring, very  _ cold  _ care.

“I think,” she hisses a whisper at Reinhardt, lying a bed over, “That we are  _ literally  _ being frozen out.”

Reinhardt, damn him, whispers louder than most people speak, and when he says, “If hospitals were comfortable, no one would ever want to be well!” Brigitte is certain that they will be chided by Angela for ‘not resting,’ as they were less than an hour previously when her father visited them.

Normally Brigitte is not one to complain, but she is sore from her injury, is  _ bored _ from being made to rest, and is very, very cold, because evidently Angela does not take comfort or electricity costs into account when setting the thermostat.

“I just don’t see how she stands it,” Brigitte grumbles, “I’m Swedish,  _ I  _ shouldn’t be the cold one!”

“It’s her uniform,” Reinhardt answers, “The turtleneck protects her from the cold, if nothing else!” Brigitte cannot see his face through the partition, and is left to imagine his expression, his gesticulation — it is not difficult, given his love of storytelling, his propensity for exaggeration both physical and literary —and she knows he is amused as he says this: “ Why if  _ we  _ were in  _ our  _ armor, t hen we would be safe from more than just the cold.”  Again, Brigitte can hear the wink in his voice, knows the effort he will be putting in as he says this to make sure the winking of his good eye is apparent, and not merely a blink not mirrored—and normally, she would be laughing too, but not today.

Not today, for today they nearly died, the both of them, and their armor can save them from much, but it cannot save them from their own mistakes.  Even that, she could forgive, were it something unusual—risk is a part of their job, and she accepted, the day she became Reinhardt’s squire, that she might die to defend others, believes even that it is a  _ good  _ way to die, but she is not Reinhardt, who can be so  _ certain  _ sometimes in their victory, so trusting in the engineering, that he forgets that he is still very much human, that he cannot be patched up so easily as his armor, his shield, his helm.  While Brigitte can accept the risk of serving in Overwatch, she  _ cannot  _ accept his recklessness, cannot accept that he would risk himself, risk her, risk their mission and thereby innocents, in carelessness, in the pursuit of glory, in the empty belief that something, be it destiny, armor, or ability, will protect him from impossible odds.

So she tells him, “Not from everything,” and thinks  _ your armor cannot protect you from yourself. _

“No,” he agrees, and she thinks, for a moment, that things might be so simple, before he adds, “But that is why I have you, yes?”

He laughs, then, and it makes her  _ angry _ , not scared, not anxious, not annoyed, but  _ angry _ , because yes, she is here to protect him, to help him, to learn from him, but more importantly she wishes to help and protect  _ others _ , with him, as best they are able, and she cannot do that if he endangers the both of them.

A part of her wants to snap at him, to admonish him for suggesting as much—after all, if she were there to protect him,  _ truly  _ protect him, like the healer he seems to believe she is, then they would not be here right now—but she knows already that as much as he loves the glory of battle, Reinhardt hates  _ interpersonal  _ conflicts, does his best to deflect them, and it will not serve either of them well if she is starts a fight in such a way, will only end in a stalemate that frustrates them both.

Instead, she says to him, “I can repair armor, but I cannot repair  _ myself _ ,”  _ I cannot repair you _ , she thinks also, but does not say it, because Reinhardt cares far less for his own safety than the safety of others _.   _

“You don’t have to!” says he, and Brigitte wonders if he believes that, or if he says it only because to admit otherwise—that he  _ cannot  _ guarantee her safety, that she may see herself die alongside him—is too terrible for him to consider, is too much a reminder of all that transpired in the Fall.

“Today was close,” says she, and it must sober him, for he does not immediately respond, and she takes the opportunity to press her advantage, “It didn’t need to be.”

It hangs between them for a heartbeat, for two, for three, the knowledge that for all their talk of honor, of glory, they are not legends, but human beings, and are fallible, are vulnerable, are capable of making errors which might kill one or both of them.

“It was,” he admits, finally, and his voice is so much  _ quieter  _ as he says it, as if the fault were too terrible to fully give voice to, as if by nearly considering such a failure he is diminished.

This is not what Brigitte wanted, is  _ guilt  _ and not a realistic assessment of what it was that went wrong, and a part of her feels badly, about hurting him so, but the greater part is  _ angry _ , because if they let themselves be distracted, now, by his guilt, by his need to be a hero, then they will not accomplish anything, will not improve, will not be prepared to prevent this next time.

Brigitte is an engineer; she is practical, she  _ fixes  _ things, even when it means taking them completely apart to do so.

There is no sympathy in her voice when she says, “You should not have charged in alone,” even if she feels it, because it is not useful, now, and there will be time enough for feeling later, will be far  _ more  _ of it if they take steps to not risk their lives so in the future.

“I have done it a thousand times before!” he is not angry when he says it, but nonetheless his tone makes clear that he is not considering what she has said, not truly, “There was no danger, not until after you had already arrived.  I would have been fine where I was.”

Perhaps it is true—in part—for it was she who was hit reaching him, and it was not until he attempted to retrieve her from the field that he, too, was injured, but that is not her point, not now.

She tells him as much.

“If I am to be your squire,” says she, “If I am to help protect you, and others  _ with you,  _ then you cannot leave me on my own,” as she speaks, her speech moulds to his, slips easily into the sort of language he prefers; in truth, it is not something Brigitte is half so invested in as he, this mythos they have built around themselves, but it is useful, is a way to frame what it is that they do, to remove some of the horror of what they see, and she can understand why that is important, particularly after all that has happened to Reinhardt, and she will not hesitate to use it now if it will help to get her point across.  “You are no longer a lone knight.”

“That is so,” Reinhardt concedes, and for a split second Brigitte wonders at how much easier this was than expected, how simply he has given in, before he follows up with, “But if you are my squire, you, too, must trust  _ me _ .  I knew the risk when I went in alone, I have done so a thousand times!  All would have been well had you trusted me.”

Brigitte wants to argue that point, for they cannot  _ know  _ that, but there is, perhaps, some truth in what he says; he survived before she was able to travel with him, and for all that he may  _ seem  _ to have little regard for his own safety, he would not have lasted so long alone as he did, would not have survived the Crisis at all.  

“We both made mistakes,” she admits, and he agrees after a moment’s pause, if quietly.  She forces the optimism and cheer back into her voice, “But we just need to keep practicing our communication!”

It is not, of course, that simple, but this is something he can easily agree to, a starting point, whilst the two of them are still incapacitated and can do nothing further—and she knows that, having acknowledged his own fault, he will work to improve upon it; Reinhardt is nothing if not honorable, a man of his word.

“Yes!” he agrees, cheerful once more—and if it is forced, well, she will not remark upon it.  All things worth doing require hard work.

Tomorrow will be better; she will learn from him, yes, but he, too, shall learn from her, and they will both yet live to find glory, on the battlefield and off.

**Author's Note:**

> hopefully you all enjoyed it :) lmk ur thoughts, and, as always, the title is a 1d lyric


End file.
